


This So Wasn't in the Training Manual

by chiella



Category: Dead Like Me
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-02-18 05:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2336345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiella/pseuds/chiella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-movie: Head Reaper George teams up with an old friend to figure out why people are dying without appointments while juggling work, reaping, managing her team, and dealing with the shadowy figures of Upper Management. Can't a girl catch a break?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Something Strange Afoot

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there. This was a WIP that became dead like DLM over on ff.net several years ago. This is a slightly edited version that is posting slowly while I work on the last few chapters and finally get this thing finished!

By 8 am on an otherwise unremarkable Tuesday morning, George was sitting in what would become her usual spot, engrossed in her work. After Rube had finally gotten his promotion and the disastrous reign of Cameron, George had decided that if she had to be the boss, she might as well follow the example of the one who’d actually given a fuck. While things had been a bit tumultuous at first, to say the least, things for George and her crew had settled down nicely over the last few months – if you could call popping souls and standing witness to an endless cycle of death, death, and more death “nice.” 

It had taken three months, but Der Waffle Haus had finally reopened, bigger and tackier than ever. George had entered earlier that morning and had made a beeline for what used to be their usual table, claiming Rube’s old seat in their booth for her own. She figured he’d appreciate the continuation of their traditional morning breakfast meetings at his favorite waffle joint. Besides, it was murder trying to get four open seats together at the Starbucks where they had been meeting for three months. 

Kiffany, stopping by to pour her coffee, smiled in recognition. “It’s so good to see you back here. I’m glad that fire didn’t drive away all my favorite regulars. Will the others be joining you too?”

“Are you kidding? You couldn’t keep me away from your waffles, Kiffany my love,” Mason beamed as he plopped down on the seat across from George. Daisy joined him somewhat more sedately, while Roxy settled beside George. 

“Still waiting for one more then? I’m surprised, usually Rube’s the first one of you here,” Kiffany noted as she poured coffee for the newcomers. 

A slightly awkward silence descended upon the group before George cleared her throat. “Actually, he got a promotion and had to transfer to a new office, so it’ll just be us now.”

“But not to worry, Kiff! I’ll take a banana bonanza and a side of extra extra extra crispy bacon. It’s like he never left at all!” Mason winked. 

Kiffany just shook her head at his antics. “And what can I get for the rest of you?” She took their orders and headed off to the kitchen, leaving the four reapers to their morning chatter.

Except this morning there was a good bit less chatter than usual, as they all adjusted to being back in Der Waffle Haus without the man who had brought them together. 

“My goodness,” Daisy said, finally breaking the silence, “you’d think someone had died or something. We’ve been just fine the last three months. Why should it be any different here? Besides, I can actually hear myself think in here. Between the music and the college kids, I was growing to hate Starbucks. Now, how are we doing on reaps today, Georgia?”

Interlacing her fingers and stretching her arms out in front of her, George smirked. “You’re not going to like it,” she warned as she passed yellow sticky notes around, one each for Mason, Roxy and herself, and four for Daisy.

Mason chortled at Daisy’s expression, a mix of horror and resignation. “Well, so much for getting my nails done today. I’ll see you at home, Georgia. The rest of you, till tomorrow,” she said, finishing her coffee and sliding out of the booth. 

After polishing off his Rube Special as he liked to think of it, Mason grabbed his jacket, threw down some cash and headed off for his own assignment, leaving Roxy and George to reflect over coffee. 

In the ensuing quiet, Roxy watched George, who was lost in her own thoughts a million miles away. Finally deciding enough was enough, she resolutely decided that someone would have to coax George back to earth.

“Hey kid, what’s bothering you? I know you and Rube were sort of friends, and I know what happened with Cameron was all kinds of messed up, but you seemed to be doing ok before this.”

George jumped a bit before shrugging sheepishly at the cop. “I don’t know, I guess just being here without Rube really brought home that he’s actually gone and I’m supposed to somehow fill his shoes… How fucked up is that? I’m only marginally less of a fuck-up than MASON for fuck’s sake. Plus, I’ve still got work at Happy Time, and Delores is talking about giving me a promotion to go with my new office, and, well, it just seems like someone up there has decided to screw with my life yet again and dump all kinds of responsibility I’m so not ready for in my lap.”

Roxy just looked at her steadily. “No, you are ready for it. You’re the only one who saw through that dick Cameron’s bullshit. Rube taught you right, and you’ve been doing good since you got the job. And you know they love you over at that shithole you call a job. Quit worrying so much and you’ll be fine. You don’t have to be Rube, you just have to make sure all the reaping gets done as it should. Now if we’re done with this little nauseating heart-to-heart, I’ve got to go bust some law-breaking balls. I’ll see ya around.”

George watched Roxy go with a thoughtful expression on her face. Could she really do Rube’s job without being Rube? Well, maybe. Things had gone more or less smoothly since she’d gotten the job. It helped that her three reapers knew what they were doing and had been sufficiently freaked out by everything that had gone wrong under Cameron’s leadership and had been staying out of trouble. Although… she only had three reapers. And now that she thought about it, the reaping load had been unusually high lately. Shouldn’t there have been a replacement for Rube/Cameron by now? Daisy had shown up almost immediately after Betty had, well, disappeared. She still wasn’t sure what had happened to Betty, and figured there was a decent chance she never would. After settling the bill with Kiffany, George grabbed her coat and headed off for another exciting day of drudgery at Happy Time.

The next morning, George padded downstairs in her bathrobe and slippers, still half asleep. She poured herself a cup of coffee, grabbed the non-descript envelope just inside her door, and collapsed on the couch, giving the caffeine time to work through her system. Finally starting to perk up, she pulled over the leather date book from the table and opened the daily list of reaps. She gingerly pulled the rubber bands off the book and placed them around her wrist, and smiled slightly, thinking Rube would forgive her for the minor theft of his book. The team still had their phones from Cameron, but George figured that sometimes technology just fucked things up. At least Rube’s system had always been reliable.

As she copied in the names, places, and times of death into the notebook, Daisy flounced in with her own cup of coffee, makeup already on and hair styled and coiffed. George glanced up long enough to glare in her direction. While George didn’t fully wake up until at least her second cup of coffee, once she was up – which sometimes required an act of God, or at least extreme encouraging from George – Daisy practically glowed in the mornings, fluttering around the house and testing the effects of various lighting situations on her chosen ensemble and accessories. Sometimes Daisy’s saccharine sweetness in the morning was enough to make George want to kill her. Or it would if Daisy wasn’t already dead. And today was looking like one of those days. 

“Did you see? The theater’s doing an anniversary showing of my movie,” Daisy mentioned, handing the local newspaper over for George’s inspection before floating over to a plush chair and pulling out a nail file. 

George glanced up, trying to gauge Daisy’s reaction to the showing of Gone with the Wind. Deciding she didn’t seem upset about it, she took the paper and skimmed the article. But the story below the fold caught her attention.

“Hey, wait a minute…”

The headline, “Three University Students Dead as a Result of Tragic Accident,” sprawled across the lower half of the page, accompanied by a large photo of the remnants of a college classroom, smoke still curling in the air.

Daisy looked up from filing her nails. “Hmm?”

George read the rest of the article in confusion. “Three college kids died yesterday in an explosion in a science lab,” she muttered distractedly.

“So?” 

“So, explosions are our division. But we didn’t have post-its for any of them,” George said slowly.

Daisy shrugged, unconcerned. “Maybe Roxy or Mason had them.”

George just raised her eyebrow at her. “Daisy, I write the post-its. I know what names were on them. I even have it right here.” 

She flipped to yesterday’s page in Rube’s datebook. “See? No C. Carmichael, M. Weston, or S. Spencer. They didn’t have an appointment, and for all we know, their souls could still be trapped in their bodies. Or what’s left of their bodies anyway,” she grimaced. “Maybe one of us should check…”

“Well, you’re the boss. But I’d suggest sending Mason. He actually seems to enjoy the squishy ones,” Daisy said with a shudder.

“You do know I was a squishy one, right?” Seeing Daisy’s unapologetic shrug, George continued, “But that’s not a bad idea. His reap is pretty close to the morgue. And he’s been on his best behavior since the douche-bag-who-shall-not-be-named.” Slipping the rubber bands back around the leather book, George stood to get ready for the day.

Forty-five minutes later, the gang gathered at their usual spot for George to hand out the usual yellow notes. Before Mason could high-tail it out of there for whatever nefarious plot he had planned this week, George grabbed his arm. 

“I have a favor to ask, Mason,” she began.

An unholy gleam lit up his eyes. “Oh reeeeeally. And what do I get out of it?” 

“How about I don’t tell Daisy about how you moaned her name while making out with the new blonde waitress? You’re never going to win her over with that kind of shit you know.”

Mason paled. “Um, right-o! Wait, you think I actually have a shot?” He leaned forward eagerly.

George smirked. “Not really, but stranger shit has happened. She did like that you went to her play and didn’t give her crap about it afterwards. She thought the carnation thing was cute.”

Nodding thoughtfully, he pulled out a pen and wrote “Flowers” on the back of his post-it for the day. “Flowers. Right. I can do flowers. And chocolates. Girls like chocolates...”

Before he could get too carried away, George interrupted him. “Y’know, Daisy’s had loads of guys chase after her with flowers and chocolates. She practically expects them from every male between 12 and 80. Why don’t you just be yourself? Well, a slightly cleaner, less high version of yourself anyway. I think she likes that you’re not like every other man she’s been with.” 

Mason stared at her in disbelief. “I’ve bloody well been myself for the last six years and see where that’s gotten me? Bloody nowhere, that’s where. Although… she has been less of a bitch lately. Maybe she’s finally appreciating my charms after the way Cameron treated her, ya think?”

George glanced at her watch and groaned. “Ok, focus Mason.” She slid the paper over to him. “There were three kids killed yesterday in an explosion. They should’ve been our reaps, but they weren’t on our list and none of us were there to reap ‘em. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I was hoping that since you’ve got an appointment out near the morgue that you could swing by and just check to see if their souls are popped? I don’t want to leave them trapped if they’re still in there.”

“Eh, they were probably just grabbed by someone in another division for personal reasons. Like Rube with his daughter,” Mason suggested, unconcerned.

George shook her head. “No, if that were the case, I’d still have been notified. I’d get the name and pass it on to Brian in Natural Causes or Gina in Circulatory. We’ve each got a list of people close to a reaper should their appointment show up on our schedule.”

“What about Plague Division?” Mason asked.

George snorted in amusement. “Are you kidding? No one even remembers the last time the Plague folks actually had a reap in Seattle. None of them has family still around. They mostly volunteer to help out overworked divisions during high turnover periods since they’ve got so much time on their hands, the lucky bastards. Well, that and compete in bocce ball tournaments.”

“Hmm. That is weird then, innit? Alright, I’ll have a look and escort any souls still hanging around into the million watt great beyond,” Mason promised, “but you’re buying breakfast tomorrow.”

George rolled her eyes. “Fine, whatever. And thanks. But I’ve got to go, or I’ll be late for Happy Time. Stop by when you’re done and let me know how things went at the morgue, ok? Maybe Daisy’ll be around and you can try dazzling her with your charm or something.”

Mason brightened. “Sure thing, Georgie.”

The two headed out of Der Waffle Haus and split up, each off to start the day’s work.


	2. The Plot Thickens

After a busy day of doing pretty much nothing at Happy Time, George pulled her beloved Mustang into the driveway of the house she and Daisy shared. Unlocking the door, George stepped inside, slipping her heels off and hanging her coat on the stair rail. She wandered into the kitchen intending to start cooking dinner, a responsibility that fell to her whenever she and Daisy didn’t order take out. Daisy’s cooking skills, were, well, let’s just say her strengths lay in entirely different directions.

She flicked on the light, only to jump back in surprise, just barely stifling the shriek Mason’s sudden appearance inspired.

“Heya, Georgie girl,” he chirped as he pulled out a carton of orange juice from the fridge and proceeded to drink straight from the bottle.

“Jesus, Mason. What the hell are you doing here? And stop that! At least use a glass.” She shoved one at him from the cupboard next to the fridge.

Winking at her, he ignored her outstretched arm, took a few more swallows of juice and calmly capped it and set it back in the fridge. “Hey now, you’re the one who told me to stop by later.”

“I meant when I was home! I didn’t mean for you to break into my house and contaminate all my food.” Grimacing, she pulled the OJ back out and handed to him. “You might as well finish it, I’m certainly not drinking it now.”

“Score, free juice. And I didn’t break in, you know. Daisy let me in. She’s upstairs doing some sort of feminine beauty… thing. To be honest, I didn’t really ask for specifics. There was mud involved,” he shuddered.

George piled chicken breasts and veggies on the counter and began preparing some stir fry while Mason watched intently, trying to figure out how to finagle a dinner invite. “Fine. So what did you find out at the morgue?”

Mason turned his attention from the food and back to his boss. “Well, I don’t know who did it or why, but they’d definitely been popped, so somebody reaped ‘em. Are you sure it wasn’t somebody from another division?”

“Nope, I double checked with the other heads while I was at work. I even tried the Plague and Pets divisions. Nobody seems to know anything about it. Something isn’t right here. I just wish I knew what it was,” she muttered. Giving the stir fry one final stir, she took it off the heat and began dishing it out onto three plates. Mason’s eyes grew wide and hopeful. George rolled her eyes and shoved the plates at him. “Whatever. Make yourself useful and at least grab some silverware and set the table.”

Moving towards the stairs, she called up to Daisy that dinner was ready if she wanted to eat. As she made her way back to the kitchen, a loud and authoritative knock resounded from the front door. “Hey Mason, grab another plate and dish out what’s left in the pan, it looks like Roxy’s joining us.” Pulling open the front door, George found herself practically run over as an anxious and upset Roxy plowed through before starting to pace the length of the hallway.

“Roxy?” George questioned tentatively, afraid of sparking off an explosion of angry cop-woman. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? We’ve got food, come in and eat.”

Roxy allowed herself to be steered towards the kitchen. She exchanged nods with Mason and sank into the seat she always claimed at the table when they all gathered at the house. Daisy wandered in, the light floral scent of her perfume permeating the air and making Mason sniff appreciatively. “You always smell so good, Daisy,” he complimented.

To everyone’s surprise and Mason’s ecstatic delight, Daisy gave him what might have been called a shy smile on anyone else and murmured her thanks. Delicately sipping her wine, Daisy looked over to George. “Did you find out anything about those unscheduled deaths, Georgia?”

Roxy’s eyes narrowed. “Unscheduled deaths? What do you mean, ‘unscheduled deaths’? Deaths are always scheduled.”

George swallowed before answering. “That’s the thing. Three kids died in an explosion yesterday and we didn’t have post-its for them. I sent Mason over to the morgue to make sure their souls weren’t trapped, but somebody’d reaped them. But it wasn’t anyone from one of the Seattle divisions. I have no clue what’s going on; upper management didn’t give me a heads up about anything like this happening.”

If possible, Roxy’s face had grown even more serious than usual. “I don’t like this, kid. We got a call at the precinct about two murder victims today, and I know none of us had their appointments. I did the same thing and checked to see if they’d vacated the premises. It was just like those kids from yesterday. Dead body, no soul. And no assigned reaper as far as I know. That’s why I came straight here after my shift ended.”

George groaned and sank down in her seat. “Fuck. Why does shit like this always seem to be following me around? I guess I’ll try and get a note to the higher ups and see if they’ll deign to give us any answers. But I’m not holding my breath. In the meantime, let’s try and keep a watch on any unscheduled deaths.” Her team nodded solemnly, and agreed to keep checking any additional bodies that turned up. “Something about this just doesn’t seem right. You don’t think… No, couldn’t be,” George muttered under breath before dismissing the half-formed thought. The others looked at her inquisitively, but collectively agreed not to push it.

Later that night after Mason and Roxy had left, George penned a note to the shadowy figures of upper management asking about the five strange deaths and asking if she needed to be concerned about it. She pulled out the head reaper instruction manual she had received along with a lifetime supply of yellow post-its when she’d been promoted. Well, she called it a manual. Really it was more like one worn and type-written page with the procedures for assigning reaps, administering the annual self-evaluations, and submitting paperwork every 50 years, as well as instructions for contacting upper management in the case of various sorts of emergencies. When she’d first read it, she’d been convinced someone had fucked up and forgot to give her the rest of her manual. But then she’d found the same page folded up in the back of Rube’s datebook. George had always assumed that Rube’s knowledge about his job and his savvy approach to reaping had come from knowing much more about how the whole death thing worked.

Turned out she’d been wrong about that. It was just Rube being Rube and doing what needed to be done. Since taking over, George had tried to follow his example, and in the first challenge facing her team under her leadership, George found herself wishing she had Rube around to talk to. From her first days as a reaper when she had staged multiple little rebellions against the system, Rube had been the person she turned to for guidance.

Even after she’d gotten her life as an undead reaper mostly sorted out, she’d still found herself sticking around Der Waffle Haus with Rube long after the others had left, sometimes just sitting quietly, sometimes spiritedly debating anything and everything, and sometimes having quiet, serious discussions that she’d never really been close enough to anyone else to have. And although she’d grown closer to Roxy, Mason and Daisy over the years, in times like this, when she was confused or uncertain, she distinctly felt Rube’s absence.

He had a no-bullshit, common sense approach to life – and the afterlife – that always helped her to put things in perspective. And he never let her get away with lying, to him or to herself. Even though she felt reasonably happy about how things had worked out with Reggie after Hudson Hart had died, George knew that if Rube were around she’d have handled things differently. Then again, if Rube were around, her reap wouldn’t have gone so completely wrong and she wouldn’t have spoken to her sister again in the first place. Regardless, she desperately wished he was around to bolster her confidence with his calm belief in her abilities. Something about these five deaths rubbed her the wrong way, and she had a strange feeling of foreboding.

Pulling out her cell phone, George followed the instructions on her sheet for “Suspicious Activity.” She typed in a number and hit send, letting it ring 9 times before disconnecting. Then she waited three minutes and dialed it again. It picked up on the first ring.

“Hello?” A bit disconcerted by the lack of response, George hoped she was doing this right and continued with the instructions. “George, External Influences, Seattle. Answers sought in the endless night, the lonely angel awaits its fight,” she spoke the code phrase indicating she had a letter for the higher ups and was requesting a response. Why she couldn’t just _say_ “Hi, I have a question, what the hell is going on?” or “I have a letter for you, can you pick it up and send me a response?” was beyond her, but then again, she’d figured out several years ago that with reaping, it was often better to just not ask those kinds of questions. She wouldn’t get any answers anyway.

“Confirmed. Ten minutes,” a strange breathy voice, neither feminine nor masculine, responded before immediately disconnecting the call.

George slowly lowered the phone and wandered over to the front door and took a seat on the steps so she could watch out the window next to the door. Ten minutes later, a shadow flickered across the window. George stood and carefully slipped the envelope with her note in it under the door. The shadow vanished and George retreated to bed, hoping tomorrow would bring some answers.


	3. Communication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I have never been to Seattle, so any and all locations are drawn from google, but hopefully they are at least somewhat feasible. If not, well, pretend they are!

George had a theory that she was destined to be disappointed in both life and death. If she’d been hoping for some insight from upper management, it was only natural that she wouldn’t get any. Instead of answers to her questions or any kind of instruction, George found only her team’s list of appointments and a small envelope. Inside, she found a summons to a regional meeting of the division heads to take place that evening. Luckily for her, the leaders of the Pacific Northwest divisions were to meet in Seattle, quite near Der Waffle Haus at 8 pm. She’d be able to meet the others for dinner and head to her meeting from there.

She quickly wrote out the day’s post-its, stuck them in Rube’s book and got ready for her day. She had the day off from Happy Time and had planned to use the time to catch up on errands and chores around the house, but found herself scheduled for a joint reap with Mason at a park on the outer edge of their jurisdiction. They’d need the extra time to get there and back. She pulled on jeans and a sweater, hoping there would be no more suspicious and unexplained deaths today. Then it struck her as she was pulling her hair back: what if this meeting was because of her note? Was something really serious going on- serious enough to call a meeting of all of the head reapers in the Pacific Northwest? She had a hard time thinking she’d stumbled onto something so big before the higher ups, but what if she had? And what if it wasn’t limited to Seattle, but was happening elsewhere as well? George shrugged her shoulders. Even if it was, there was no use worrying about it now. Doubtless whatever was going on would be explained at this meeting.

Grabbing a jacket and her keys, she hollered at Daisy to get a move on or she’d be late before heading out the door and driving to their morning meeting. She’d gotten a head start on her French toast before Mason arrived. Chewing, she wordlessly handed him a sticky note, making sure to point at the ETD. He nodded in understanding and flagged Kiffany over to get him some eggs and bacon. When his food arrived at the same time as Daisy and Roxy, he spared them a quick, “Morning, loves,” before digging into his eggs.

“Got an early reap there, Mason?” Daisy asked after she and Roxy had ordered.

George handed post-its to the other women. “Mason and I have a joint over on Vashon Island and we’ll need to head out soon to get there in time.”

“Find out anything on those five deaths?” Roxy questioned as she dripped syrup on her pancakes.

George sighed. “I wish. No, but there’s a meeting of the division heads tonight. Maybe I’ll find out something then.” She dropped money on the table for her and Mason’s portion of the bill as he winked at her across the table. George just rolled her eyes at him.

Next to her, Roxy had a thoughtful expression. “A meeting of the division heads? That’s unusual.”

George turned to her. “Really? I figured that they happened pretty regularly and Rube just never told us about them.”

Roxy shook her head. “Nope. In fact, I’m pretty sure there hasn’t been one since Betty, well, you know. She caused a bit of an uproar with that, especially since no new reaper popped into existence to take her place.”

Across from her, Daisy nodded thoughtfully. “I remember that. It caused a lot of discussion, even in New York. No one was quite sure how an extra reaper would be created. As I recall, someone in the Midwest managed to reap husband and wife simultaneously before passing on, leaving them both reapers. Isn’t that romantic?”

Roxy shot her a small glare. “Unless they hated each other and are now stuck together for way longer than most marriages. Although I guess one of them could always transfer. Anyway, meeting of the division heads isn’t exactly an everyday occurrence, so something big must be up.”

George stared at the meeting invite. “Huh,” was all she could think to say. “Well, I guess I’ll find out tonight.” She pulled on her coat and prepared to stand up. Roxy let her out of the booth and then resumed eating. “Come on, Mason, we’d better get going if we’re going to catch the right ferry.” Turning to the other two women, George asked that they keep an eye out for any more unusual deaths and to meet back here for dinner later. Roxy nodded and waved George and Mason off and returned her attention to her breakfast.

George and Mason headed towards George’s Mustang for the drive to the pier to catch the ferry to Vashon. They listened to the radio in silence, until a news story caught their attention.

“Following in the wake of the tragic deaths of three university students on Wednesday, yet another student was found dead this morning, apparently killed by armed robbers when the student interrupted a theft in progress in one of the university’s biology labs. The name of the victim has not yet been released, but police are actively investigating this robbery-turned-murder. Police are requesting that anyone who might have seen something or who knows anything about the attack call their hotline at 555-433-5590. Again, that’s 555-433-5590. The university is planning a candlelight vigil and remembrance ceremony for tomorrow night; let’s all just hope that this is the end of the tragedy. In other news…”

George looked at Mason with wide eyes. He grimaced. “I’ll call Roxy then. She can look into it, maybe get on the case and find out something useful.” George nodded and pulled into the line of cars waiting to make the ferry crossing.

Once the ferry had docked on Vashon Island, it was a quick drive to the park for their reaps. George and Mason planted themselves on a bench with fifteen minutes to spare and immediately began assessing risk factors. The park was fairly empty at 11 am on a Friday morning. A few mothers watched young kids on the playground, and occasionally someone walked by with a dog.

At 11:04, two middle-aged women in track suits jogged past George and Mason and settled down on a bench ten feet away. A man walking a dog stopped in front of them. “Mrs. Harris, Mrs. Colgrave,” he greeted them and stopped to chat.

“That’s them.” George flicked her eyes towards a graveling clambering over a set of monkey bars a few feet away. She watched as it loosened a few screws and began swinging back and forth, making the whole thing start to shake.

The man with the dog started to walk away, waving goodbye to the two older women, who stood up and started walking back towards the parking lot, their path taking them right under the now unstable monkey bars. George and Mason brushed past them, popping their souls and waiting from the sidelines. When the two women were directly under the bars, the graveling hopped, sending the whole thing crashing down on them. George swore the thing winked at her as it vanished into smoke and disappeared. _‘Well that wasn’t creepy at all_ ,’ she thought.

The two souls had appeared in front of them and Mason smiled charmingly and took each of them on an arm and led them towards two glittering sets of lights. Job complete, the two reapers headed back to the city. George dropped Mason off and figured she had time to do a couple of errands before meeting everyone back at Der Waffle Haus. She picked up some groceries, and headed home. She’d unlocked the door, put the groceries away and had started vacuuming when her cell phone rang.

She glanced at it to see who was calling and answered as she recognized the caller as Brian, the head of the local Natural Causes division. “Hey Brian, what’s up?” she asked as she continued to straighten up the living room one-handed.

“Hey there dead girl. I assume you got the invite to the regional meetin’ tonight?”

She settled on the sofa. “Yeah, I did. I hear those aren’t exactly common either. Any idea what it’s about?”

Brian paused before answering. “Actually, I wonder if it doesn’t have somethin’ to do with those deaths you called me about earlier. Did you tell the uppers about it?”

“Yeah… should I not have…?” her voice faded with uncertainty. “I just thought… maybe they’d know if it was something to be concerned about.”

Brian was quick to reassure her. “No, I think you did the right thing. And this meetin’ might be about something else- it might just be a coincidence, you know? But if somethin’ really is goin’ on, the sooner there’s a plan to deal with it, the faster it’ll all get resolved. Anyway, I gotta go. Want me to save you a seat tonight?”

“That’d be really… nice. Thanks, Brian.”

He laughed, “Sure, no problem George. I’ll see you later.”

“Yep. Later.” As she hung up, George noticed the envelope near the front door.

Frowning, she picked it up and studied it. There was nothing written on the outside, and it was a different style and color than those used by for the reap lists. She peeled back the flap and slid out a single sheet of paper. Written in splattered blood-red ink – at least, she totally hoped that was ink – the scrawled message read, “Your interference is not appreciated. Keep out of other people’s business, dead girl.”


	4. Preparation and Anticipation

As she pushed open the door to Der Waffle Haus, George felt like the warning note was burning a hole through her pocket, where it rested like an ominous signal of impending shit about to hit the proverbial fan. She supposed she should have expected it; things always did seem to go to hell sooner or later. She nervously tugged at the hem of her shirt, trying to smooth away the non-existent wrinkles. George would never admit it – well, ok, maybe she would have, but only to Rube, so no admitting would be occurring tonight – but the impending reaper meeting was making her nervous.

This was the first time she’d be required to do more than write and distribute sticky notes since she’d been promoted. What did you even wear to a meeting of the heads of the reaper divisions? It wasn’t like she could exactly be fired, unless her team went batshit crazy again and decided to cut her up into tiny pieces and burn them, but she figured she should try not to look like a slob. She’d settled for something a little less formal than the suits she donned for Happy Time, but a little nicer than the jeans and t-shirts she usually wore on her days off. Her dark teal silk blouse offset her dark blonde hair and at least made her look like a confident division head, even if she was fighting to control the nervous trembling in her hands.

Daisy and Roxy were already at the table, and Roxy got up to let George slide in. George perused the menu while Daisy chattered on about the movie theater’s various events promoting the 70th anniversary of Gone with the Wind and Roxy just looked bored. When Mason finally arrived, he had a certain manic grin on his face that George was sure signaled trouble.

“Mason, whatever the fuck you did, it’d better not cause more trouble for me. I do not want to have to bail you out of jail again this week,” George observed dryly.

Mason adopted his wounded puppy face. “Hey now, Georgie, that’s not very nice. I did you a favor, I did. Looked into that murder we heard about. I figured some acquaintances of mine might have heard something about a job over at the uni. Don’t you want to know what I found out?”

She bit her lip. “Yeah, I do. Spill.”

“Well, that’s just it. No one knows anything about anything going on there. None of the regular crews were involved, and the lab that got hit has enough security to deter any one operating without an experienced crew.”

Roxy broke in, “Yeah, and the police haven’t found anything- all we’ve got to go on is the bullet that killed the guy- just a basic nine millimeter. But the soul was popped, just like all the others. And there’s still no leads on the other two murders- both strangulations. So now we’re up to six bodies and still no answers.”

Daisy tsked. “This just gets stranger and stranger. I do hope they tell you something at this meeting of yours, Georgia. Maybe we’re worrying over nothing,” she added hopefully.

The other three didn’t share her optimism. “I don’t know what it is, but I have a really bad feeling about this. Have since I read that first article. I just think there’s something going on, and it’s not good,” George murmured. After glancing around to make sure Kiffany wasn’t coming over to the table, she pulled out the note she’d gotten that afternoon. “And I’m pretty sure this proves something nasty is going on.”

Leaning forward to pick it up, Mason extended his hand and promptly got smacked with the flat side of Roxy’s butter knife. “Are you fucking stupid? Don’t touch it, there might be prints on it. I’ll take it down to the station and see if I can lift any and run them through the computer.” She pulled an evidence bag from a pocket and carefully refolded the note and slide it into the bag using the tip of her knife to avoid adding her own prints to it.

“I didn’t even think of that,” George sighed. “There’s an envelope at home too; I didn’t touch it as much so you might have better luck with it. Daisy can let you in if you want to take a look. I left it on the kitchen table.”

Roxy nodded. “How’d you get this, anyway?”

“It was waiting for me when I got home this afternoon. Someone’d slipped it under the front door.”

“They know where we live?!” Daisy gasped. “Haven’t we had enough crazy people running through that house?”

George shrugged. “Somehow I think we will _always_ have crazy people crossing our path. It seems to be our destiny or some shit.”

Daisy was still worried, so Mason volunteered to crash on the couch so that Daisy and George would have another reaper on their side in case anything happened. Daisy’s eyes grew wide at his offer and she positively cooed at him. “Mason, what a kind offer. Your protection would be most appreciated.”

Roxy snorted. “Some protection. Tell you what, I’ll stay over in the guest room tonight, that way at least someone there will have a gun and know how to use it. I think we all know how useful – or not – Mason is in a fight.”

George nodded her thanks to the gun-toting cop. They spent the rest of the meal discussig the day’s reaps. Daisy’d had a particularly nasty one involving a hardware store power tool demonstration gone horribly, horribly awry. When 7:45 rolled around, George stood to head down the street to her meeting just a block down in a non-descript office building.

“Well, wish me luck. Hopefully I don’t make an ass out of myself,” she said in farewell.

Mason and Daisy smiled encouragingly, while Roxy hit her with, “Oh shut it, dead girl. All you have to do is sit there and pay attention. And then come right back here and tell us everything that happens.”

And with that to bolster her confidence, George grinned and headed off to her first regional reaper meeting.


	5. Make New Friends

A steady stream of invectives passed through George’s lips as she huffed and puffed her way up to the thirteenth floor, cursing reapers, meetings, shitty office buildings, and elevators that were fucking out of order. She slammed open the door from the stairwell to the hallway with more force than was strictly called for, feeling somewhat satisfied when it rebounded off the wall with a crunch as the door handle tore into the drywall.

Standing near the door, a decent looking guy with brown hair and bright green eyes smirked at her. George thought he looked like a stereotypical frat boy- maybe 22 or 23 when he died. When he caught her eyeing him, a knowing grin spread across his face as he teased her. “I take it you enjoyed the stairs?” he drawled with a touch of a soft southern accent, gesturing to the hole she had made.

“You’re fucking hysterical, funny man,” George panted as she deliberately looked away from him and tried to catch her breath.

He chuckled and stepped forward to grab her arm. “Come on, toilet seat girl. I saved you a seat like I promised.”

George froze in her tracks, bringing the man up short as he found her no longer with him. “YOU’RE Brian?” George exclaimed in disbelief.

He frowned. “What, expecting someone else? It’s not like we’ve never spoken before.”

She spluttered. “But… but you’re so young! And you sounded different on the phone the like _five times_ I talked to you. Your voice sounded higher and the accent wasn’t as noticeable,” she insisted. Then she frowned. “And don’t call me toilet seat girl!”

That prompted an outright laugh from him. “George, have you looked in a mirror lately? Besides, if we’re countin’ time spent as a reaper, believe me, I’m plenty old. You’re the baby ‘round here. It’s practically unheard of for someone with less than twenty years reapin’ experience to rise to team leader. You must’ve really impressed someone with how you handled the last disaster they appointed. Although come to think of it, he’d also only been reapin’ a few years…” he trailed off.

“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting… this,” she said, gesturing to him. “And I have to admit, I was really surprised the first time you called. I always thought Penny was the head of Natural Causes. So how long have you been dead, anyway?” George scrutinized his face as if she could somehow divine the answer by staring at him.

Brian chuckled. “I’m beginning to see why Rube had so many problems with you.”

“Hey! I haven’t been causing problems for years now!” George protested. “And I never _meant_ to cause Rube any of the billion headaches I’m sure I gave him. Plus, to be fair, he did leave out a lot of details when I first turned reaper. Like, ‘By the way, George, you should always make your appointments on time because otherwise the soul will be trapped in the body and will have to experience its own autopsy.’ Why the asshole thought issuing orders without explanations was a good way to handle my training, I’ll never know.”

Her fellow reaper clapped a hand over his mouth to hold in what looked like it wanted to turn into a full-on belly laugh as his eyes danced with mirth. “Well, I’ll give you this, toilet seat girl,” he said as he caught his breath, “you sure do shake things up around here.” Seeing the dirty look she was bestowing on him, he hastened to clarify. “Not sayin’ that’s a bad thing. So much stays static in our world – same faces stickin’ around for years and years, reapin’ day in and day out for decades on end… A gust of fresh air does us all good. But to answer your earlier question, the powers that be wanted Penny to head up the division when the last head filled his quota, but our Penny can be mighty stubborn if she gets it in her mind to, and she flat-out refused to take the job. She was still workin’ for Rube at the time and liked where she was at. Insisted I’d be better at it anyway. Don’t really know if she’s right or not, but here we are.”

George smiled. “Well, any woman who continues to avoid ice even in her iced tea over ninety years after dying by iceberg has to be a little bit mule-headed.” She snorted. “Hell, that’s probably why we get along.”

Brian squeezed her shoulder with a smile. “Might have somethin’ to do with it. She also thought you were good for Rube – gave him something to focus on besides his family after his daughter passed. As for myself, I died in 1932. Leukemia. Not that they knew what the heck that was back then, or how to treat it. And not that my folks could’ve afforded much in the way of treatin’ even if they had. Farmin’ wasn’t the most lucrative of fields in the middle of the depression.”

He waved aside George’s muttered apology. “Nah, it was a long time ago. And my story’s got notin’ on yours, Toilet Seat.” Shaking his head, he got himself back on track. “Now, come on, we’re goin’ to be late. You can grill me about my various life and death experiences later.”

He ushered her into a crowded conference room with six rows of chairs, nearly all filled by the head of a reaper team. At the front of the room, the words “Special Investigation,” were projected across a screen in angry bold letters. After talking to Brian, George felt a bit calmer about the meeting and allowed herself a small smile at the thought of some ghostly shadow temping for upper management and creating PowerPoint presentations for reaper meetings. Delores could give them some tips on making it more engaging. She had to stifle a laugh at the mental image of Delores leaning over a shadow and offering suggestions as it worked on slides.

Brian led her to two unoccupied seats near the back next to an older woman in her sixties with curly iron-grey hair tumbling to her shoulders and piercing black eyes that glittered in the dim light of the room. As George sat in the seat next to her with Brian taking the seat on the end, the woman smiled and held out her hand.

“You must be Georgia Lass. I’m Gina, Seattle Circulatory. We’ve spoken a time or two.”

George smiled and shook her hand. “Hi Gina. It’s good to meet you and put a face to the voice on the phone.”

Gina laughed. “It is at that. And I see you met our resident charmer, here. I swear, that accent of his… he gets all the girls chasing after him in a matter of minutes. Doesn’t help that he’s actually a gentleman too – holds doors open, pulls out chairs….”

Looking distinctly uncomfortable, Brian went for the obvious subject change and gestured at the screen., the tips of his ears already blazing red. “Hey look, looks like we’ll be discussin’ your missin’ reaps after all,” he proclaimed just a little too loudly.

The two women smiled conspiratorially and went along with his diversionary tactic. George decided she liked Gina and Brian. They were both friendly, and they’d been more than helpful when she first got promoted, explaining how a list of reaps would be passed under her door by someone she would never see and it was her job to divvy the deaths up amongst her team. She’d always thought there was more to it than that, but aside from making the assignments and making sure nobody fucked up said assignments, that really was the extent of the job. Well, that and periodic paperwork updates and the annual performance reviews. Somehow it’d always seemed like Rube was way more involved with things than that. Then again, her team had been uncharacteristically well-behaved after the shit storm named Cameron. Even Mason had toned down his extracurricular activities.

“Hey, so how does this meeting thing work anyway?” George asked, as 8:00 pm came and went with no sign of someone to start the meeting.

Gina looked around the room. “We’re still waiting on three people; it can be rough for out-of-towners to get to the meeting spot, especially when they’re called on short notice like this. Once everyone’s here, the regional manager will tell us whatever we’re supposed to know and then we all file out and go follow our marching orders.”

Brian nodded. “Guess we’ll be meeting the new guy today. Ricky got promoted a few months back.”

“Really? I hadn’t heard. Wonder who the new regional manager is then,” Gina replied.

From her seat between them, George zoned out their speculations on who’d gotten the coveted regional head slot – “Too bad you didn’t get it, Gina, you were probably on the short-list of candidates after all. I got no clue what exactly the regional head _does_ , mind you, but Ricky always said it don’t involve reapin’ every day!” – and studied the other reapers around the room. She herself was the youngest in the room, and she’d bet she’d been a reaper the shortest time too if Brian was right.

The lights flickered off and on and then off again, bringing George’s attention back to the meeting at hand. She noticed the last of the seats had been filled, and a shadowy figure stood at the front of the room. The same sort of expressionless, neutral voice that had responded when she’d phoned the higher ups began to speak.

“Good evening.”

Stunned silence filled the room. George looked around her in confusion, sensing that something was different from usual regional meetings. The tension in the room was evident, and all of the reapers looked shocked.

George turned to look at Brian, who stared slack-jawed at the shadow, and then swiveled to ask Gina what was going on. Gina shook herself and then whispered, “That’s someone from upper. I’ve never actually _seen_ anyone from upper management. The regional head is like us, just one rung up the middle management ladder. _That? That’s_ upper management,” she explained.

The voice continued, either oblivious to or uncaring about the shock flowing through his? Her? Its? audience. “We have a situation on our hands,” it began, as the projector changed to a new slide, this time displaying a blow up of the newspaper article that had first caught George’s attention. She stiffened, realizing that she’d been right all along; something serious was going down.

“There have now been six unscheduled deaths in the Seattle district. No appointments were made, no reapers assigned to them, yet they are dead and the souls are missing.” The slideshow flipped through slides about the other victims as well.

At that, the room buzzed with activity, as reapers turned to their neighbors and began theorizing in harsh whispers. George, Gina, and Brian just watched in silence.

The shadowy figure waited a moment for the crowd to calm. “This situation is most irregular and obviously must be resolved as soon as possible. I have been sent from upper management to convey the severity of this crisis and our determination to resolve this as quickly as possible to avoid any further damage to the system. Before we launch a full-scale investigation, we wished to confirm that no one knows anything about these deaths. Have any of your reapers been a part of this?”

The screen showed a list of the dead with what information was available about their deaths. The proverbial cricket could have been heard in the complete and utter silence that reigned in the room for all of three seconds before everyone began vehemently denying involvement.

“Very well. Thus far, the erroneous deaths have been limited to the Seattle district and all would have fallen into the jurisdiction of the External Influences division had they been scheduled. All of you should monitor your areas, especially heads of External divisions. Watch for any strange deaths without an appointment and report them immediately. The new regional manager will be temporarily assigned to the Seattle External Causes division under Georgia Lass, who originally brought this matter to our attention. He will be investigating these deaths from there.”

Wide-eyed, George gaped at the shadow. Had no one known about any of this before her note? Rube had always made it seem like upper management knew all and saw all. The figure merely inclined the blob where a head might be towards her in acknowledgement before continuing, “A contact number will be distributed with your reap lists tomorrow. Any information you come across relevant to this matter should be reported to him. He will be keeping us apprised of the situation. Any questions?”

The crowd seemed to have been shocked into silence. The figure nodded. “Good. Then you are all dismissed. Georgia Lass, a moment please.”

George looked at Gina and Brian in a bit of a panic. “Relax. They’re probably just going to go over how you’ll be working with the regional guy,” Gina assured her.

Brian nodded and squeezed her arm. “I’ll give you a call later and you an fill me in, alright?” He waited for her to square her shoulders and nod bravely. “Alrighty. Keep that head up, girl,” he encouraged as the two followed the rest of the reapers out of the room.

George cautiously approached the shadowy figure at the front of the room. “Georgia Lass, your new investigative partner,” it intoned gravely as the lights came on and the shadow faded away right before her eyes.

George looked from side to side with one eyebrow cocked in confusion. Then a familiar voice sounded from behind her. “Heya Peanut.”


	6. But Keep the Old

George whirled around and stared at the man standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and a familiar smirk crossing his face. “Rube?” she breathed in shocked disbelief before throwing herself across the room and clutching his shoulders in a fierce hug.

Instead of an awkward pat on the back or something like she’d have expected from him, Rube wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her back just as tightly. After a minute, George pulled back and swung her fist at his upper arm. “You jackass! We all thought you were gone, off to the great… whatever! Why the hell didn’t you tell us you were still here among the undead?” she screeched as she hit him again.

Rube winced and rubbed his arm before smiling somewhat ironically. “I guess I should’ve expected that. You never did do well with change, Peanut.”

At that, the fight drained out of her and her eyes began to tear up. She blinked furiously, willing them away. Rube immediately pulled her back to his chest, stroking her back reassuringly. “Hey now, no need for that. I’m sorry you all thought I was gone. That is generally what happens; I just got the dubious honor of moving one rung up the ladder so I could do pretty much exactly what I did before but on a larger scale. Who do you think has been sending you reap lists?”

“That was you?” George choked out, her voice rough with emotion as she fought to bring the last of her tears under control.

“Yeah, that was me.” He loosened his hold on her and grasped her hand to lead her over to two seats. He sat her down beside him and then wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing her head to rest against his shoulder. With his free hand, he gently wiped away the tears still glistening on her cheeks before leaning his head down to rest on top of hers. To his surprise, George burst into watery chuckles.

At his “Hmm?” of inquiry, she buried her head against his neck and confessed, “I’ve been thinking the last couple of days how much I wished you were here to talk all this through with me, help me sort it all out. Well, OK, to be perfectly honest, I’ve been wishing you were here since the moment we thought you’d left, but this whole extra bodies thing has just been majorly fucked up. And now here you are.”

Rube pressed a kiss against her hair at the crown of her head. “Missed you too, Peanut.” She could hear the smile in his voice and found her own smile growing of its own accord. “But you’ve been doing a damn good job without me. Hell, you’ve done the impossible by keeping the other three out of trouble this long.”

George nodded against his chest, her voice somewhat muffled by his jacket. “Wasn’t so much me as it was Cameron scaring the shit out of ‘em. I figure in another month or so things will be back to normal.”

Rube tipped her head back so he could look her in the eye. “Speaking of that ass wipe, I want you to know I’m proud of you. You’ve done some shitty stunts in the past, but you held it together, even better than Roxy.”

She gave him a small smile. “What can I say, I learned from the best. But it was weird as fuck when I suddenly became the responsible one. When the hell did that happen?”

Rube chuckled. “I’d say it’s been coming on gradually the last few years. You’ve been growing up kid, and I’d say you’ve turned out pretty well.”

At that, they sat in silence for a few minutes. Gathering her courage, George voiced the thought that had been plaguing her for the last few months. “You really think I did OK while you were gone? You’re not mad at me for talking to my sister? She knows I’m a reaper now…” she confessed, avoiding his eyes in favor of focusing on the neckline of his dark green sweater.

Rube’s response surprised her. With infinite gentleness – not something she was accustomed to from Rube – he raised her chin to force her to look at him. The look in his eyes was new too; along with the wisdom and reluctant care she was familiar with, she saw something she thought might be pride and something she couldn’t put a name to at all.

“Georgia,” he said with slow deliberateness, “you handled a shitty situation as best you could. I couldn’t have handled it better myself. We all get fucked up where our families are concerned. And I think your talk with your sister gave you both some much needed closure. I just hope you didn’t lose too many precious memories in the process.”

He watched as the somewhat vacant expression that meant she was thinking deeply about something crossed her face. “You know,” George mused, “I don’t think I lost any. I didn’t even think about that before.”

Rube nodded slowly. “The powers that be must’ve known that both of you Lass girls needed to talk things out. After all, it was your presence that kept her from rescheduling her appointment early.” Figuring that was enough of wallowing in the past, he stood, looking almost gleeful – if a man as stoic and solemn as Rube usually was could be called gleeful. “Now come on, I’ve been dying, excuse the pun, for a banana bonanza for six months now. We can work out how we’re going to figure this mess out at Der Waffle Haus with the others.” He offered her his hand to pull her to her feet and then placed his right hand on the small of her back to guide her from the building and down the block to their usual spot.

“Good idea. I didn’t really eat much at dinner because I was on edge about the whole meeting thing. The others should still be there, I was going to meet with them after the meeting ended.”

Sure enough, as they stepped through the door, they were greeted by a familiar sight. Roxy and Mason were arguing good naturedly about the merits of cats versus dogs, while Daisy idly flipped through a fashion magazine, occasionally interjecting. None of them noticed George and Rube approach, only looking up when their shadows fell across the table. There was a moment of stunned disbelief, and then three very different voices exclaimed “What the fuck?” “Holy shit!” and “My word!” in unison.

Rube just smiled and ushered George into his old seat, Roxy having stood silently to let her slide in. He took the spot next to her and Roxy sat down on the end. If the others thought it strange that he let George take his seat, no one dared to comment. George had looked at him in confusion, thinking she’d give him his spot back, but his hand kept up a steady pressure on her back, guiding her in. While the others continued to stare, George looked up at him confused.

As he so often did, Rube seemed to read her mind and quietly informed her that she was head reaper at the table, she should get the seat of honor.

George shook her head, opening her mouth to protest but he cut her off. “I’m serious, Peanut. You’ve earned that spot and you can keep it.” George snapped her mouth shut, the protest dying on her lips. Rube turned back to the other three reapers.

“All right, sunshines. I’m not even going to go into how badly you all fucked up a few months back. I figure you’ve figured that out on your own. Now, my girl here has proven she’s got a good head on her shoulders, and I want you all to try your damndest not to give her the same kind of headaches you always gave me. We clear?” He leveled a hard stare on each of them in turn, until one after another, his former charges dropped their gaze and mumbled their agreement.

“Good. I’m here to figure out what the hell’s been going on with those unscheduled deaths George was clever enough to uncover. So when I’m not out on a reap, I’ll be looking into things and I’ll need help from all of you. Can we try to actually work as a team for once and not a bunch of fuck-ups?”

His old team solemnly nodded at him. To his left, George piped up. “Roxy’s already been monitoring the police investigations on the murder victims. She can let you know what they find.” He nodded his thanks to his old friend, who gave him a smile and a dismissive shrug.

“No problem, ex-bossman,” Roxy added flippantly. That broke the dam and suddenly everyone was talking at once.

Roxy, Mason and Daisy all wanted to know what he’d been doing all this time, and why the hell he’d abandoned them to the likes of Cameron. When Daisy asked as much, Rube could only shrug. “Wasn’t my choice, Princess. Upper management doesn’t really make promotions optional. And I’d told them from the beginning they should hand the post-its over to George, but they thought the jackass would bring useful 'management skills' to the table.” His snort of derision clearly conveyed what he thought of those useful management skills.

George turned to him in shock, disbelief clearly written all over her face. Rube just draped an arm around her back and squeezed her shoulder in reassurance. _Huh_ , George thought, _well that was unexpected._

To her surprise, Roxy seconded his opinion. “Yeah, our girl here hasn’t done too bad filling in your shoes,” she said with a small smile and wink. George tentatively smiled back, privately relieved that Roxy didn’t resent her for taking over the head reaper job, a fear she’d been unwilling to voice.

Conversation continued to flow for another hour, giving the separated group a chance to catch up. Rube had wanted the whole story of how they’d sent Cameron into space of all places, and his team had wanted to know about his new job. He couldn’t tell them very much, just that he’d moved up death’s corporate ladder to serve as Regional Manager and had been in Vancouver sorting out a mess there while they’d been sorting out their own messes with Cameron. Finally, as yawns started to overtake the whole group around midnight, they headed out, everyone piling in to George’s Mustang, with Roxy, Mason and Daisy squeezing into the backseat, leaving the passenger seat for Rube.

He had quirked an eyebrow at the continued presence of Mason and Roxy. George shook her head slightly, silently promising to explain everything later. He seemed to understand and leaned back in his seat, taking in the familiar sights of what had been home until recently.

Once they’d arrived at the house, Daisy led Roxy upstairs to get her situated in the guest room, while George converted the couch in the living room into a sleeper bed. “I’m sorry, guys, but this is the last bed we’ve got left. The recliner’s not too bad to sleep on; I’ve fallen asleep in front of the TV in it a few times.” Then she looked up at Rube uncertainly. “Unless you’d rather go back to your apartment, of course.”

“If it’s ok with you, I’ll crash here. I’m sure my apartment’s long since been taken over by someone else. And I’m sure Mason doesn’t mind the recliner.” He smiled at the younger man somewhat evilly.

Mason decided he was too tired to argue. Besides, he’d never won an argument with Rube anyway, so he just plopped down on the chair. “Sure thing, bossman. Wake me up in time for breakfast,” he requested before leaning back and pulling the lever to recline the chair. Thirty seconds later, Rube and George just watched in bemusement as Mason started snoring.

“Mason, Mason, Mason,” George grinned.

“Kid always could sleep anywhere,” Rube agreed. “But so help me, if he climbs into bed with me again I’ll fucking kill him in his sleep.”

George snickered. “Again? Do I want to know?”

Rube glanced at her. “It was that time he got high off his ass – literally – smuggling drugs. I took him home and left him passed out on the floor with a blanket and a pot to throw up in, only to have him climb right into bed with me three hours later. Fucker tried to cuddle me,” he finished disgustedly. George just tried not to laugh.

Turning his back on Mason, Rube led George over to the kitchen table and sat her down next to him. “Alright, I’ve been patient. Want to tell me why the hell everyone is crashing at your place tonight? I assume this hasn’t become a regular occurrence for all of you.”

She nodded. “You’d guess right.” Sighing, George reached for the threatening note before remembering she’d given it to Roxy earlier. “Hang on, I’ll be right back,” she told Rube before flying up the stairs.

“Hey Roxy, do you think I could show that note to Rube? I know you wanted to check for prints, but…”

Roxy handed her the bag with the note in it without protest. “Go ahead. I already dusted for prints and all that came up were yours. I’ll try the envelope tomorrow, but I doubt we’ll get anything off of it.” George nodded her thanks and then dashed back down the stairs to return to Rube, who looked at her quizzically. She just handed him the evidence bag.

He examined it silently. “What’s this?” he finally prompted when George showed no sign of explaining it.

“Open it.”

He did, pulling the folded sheet of paper out and then gingerly unfolded it. His eyes widened as he quickly read the message. He grabbed her wrist tightly. “Where… how… when…” he stuttered. He finally settled on “Explain, Peanut,” his eyes dark and serious.

She told him about coming home from the grocery store and finding it on the floor inside the doorway and then showing it to the others at the diner. He eyed it critically. “Maybe we can find finger prints or something.”

George sighed. “Already on it. Roxy said there weren’t any on the paper besides mine, but she’s going to check the envelope it came in tomorrow, just in case.” He asked to see the envelope and she just pointed at a plain white legal-sized envelope sitting near his elbow. Careful not to touch it with his fingers, Rube used the letter to lift it up to look at the back. “Hmm. It’s probably clean too.”

“Probably,” Roxy answered as she entered the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, and took a seat at the table with them.

“So you and Mason are here for tactical support then?” Rube directed his question to Roxy.

She nodded. “Yeah, Daisy was pulling her usual damsel-in-distress routine, and you know Mason just eats that shit up like it’s candy. But with what’s been going on, I figured it probably wasn’t a bad idea to have an armed cop around just in case.”

The former boss had to agree. “If you and Daisy don’t mind, it might not be a bad idea for all of us to set up shop here until we have this thing sorted out. I don’t like this threat business or the fact that they know where you live.”

George nodded. “It’s fine with me, assuming you all chip in for groceries. I’d have to check with Daisy, but I don’t think she’ll mind. I’ll ask in the morning, she finished with a yawn.

Before separating to their various rooms for the night, Roxy gave Rube one of her rare hugs. “It’s good to have you back, Rube.”

He favored her with a smile, his hands still loosely grasping her shoulders. “It’s good to be back, Roxy, definitely good to be back. Now, we’d all best be getting some sleep. I imagine the next few days are going to be busy.”

He always had had a talent for understatement.


	7. Morning has Broken

Creeping down the stairs at 6:30 the next morning, George nervously clutched the datebook she’d appropriated from Rube’s apartment as she made her way into the kitchen to start the coffee maker. To her surprise, half a pot of hot coffee was already sitting on the counter. She figured Rube must’ve beaten her to it, since there was no way in hell Mason was up already. It was a good day when Mason managed to show up for their morning meeting less than ten minutes late.

She filled her favorite mug, a bright blue one Mason had gotten her for Christmas shortly after she’d been promoted. He had laughed so hard he had almost cried as he presented it to her, ridiculously pleased that he’d found a mug that said, “I’m the boss. Shut up and do what I say.” In retrospect, it was their laughter over that mug that had brought her team together as **her** team, drawing Roxy back from wherever she had withdrawn to and pulling Daisy out of her black mood following her failed stage performance.

After stirring in some milk and a spoonful of sugar, George tucked the small brown leather book under her arm and wrapped her hands around the coffee mug, letting the warmth seep into her before moving silently towards the living room. She stood in the doorway, taking in the scene before her; Mason still snoring away, a couch pillow hugged tightly to his chest, while Rube sat on the sofa, quietly going through the newspaper he must have fetched from the driveway. He sensed her watching him and glanced up, smiling in greeting. He folded the newspaper back up and stood, gesturing her towards the kitchen, where they could sit at the kitchen table to talk without disturbing Mason.

“Morning, Peanut,” he said, as he refilled his coffee cup and started another pot of coffee brewing. George had snagged the newspaper towards her, scanning the headlines.

“Morning. Any new developments overnight?” she asked, sipping her coffee as he settled down across from her.

He blew on the coffee to cool it a bit before taking a drink. “No, at least not here. I’ll have to check out the news from further out, just to make sure whatever’s going on hasn’t spread outside the city.”

His former protégé nodded. “Makes sense.” She glanced at her watch and then started to move towards the front door for the list of reaps. Rube stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Sit. I’ve got it right here,” he said, pushing a sheet of paper over towards her. “Since I’m here anyway, the delivery boy won’t be dropping off an envelope for you.”

She stared at the sheet. “Oh, of course. I should’ve thought of that. I guess I forgot that the daily reaps came from you.” She stared at her hands resting in her lap for a minute while she gathered the courage to speak. Finally looking up, she met Rube’s curious gaze. “I, um, have something of yours that I should probably give back. And not have had in the first place. But, well…” she trailed off and held his book out for him to take.

A small smile unlike anything she’d ever seen before spread across his face and his eyes softened. “You’ve been using my book?” he asked incredulously in a soft tone she’d only ever heard once or twice before.

George shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Well, after you were… gone, we broke into your apartment. We figured you wouldn’t mind, and some squatter would’ve taken things anyway. I just… well, I didn’t know how to be head reaper, and Cameron had shown us just how fucked up things could get with a bad leader, and I figured… well, I figured you were the best reaper I ever knew, and I could do worse than to follow your example. I thought maybe your planner would give me some hints on what to do. I’m sorry I stole it.”

Rube shook his head, eyes shining. “Don’t be, I’m not. You should keep it. I’m honored, kid, and I’m glad I could help, at least a little.”

She stared at him for a minute, trying to judge his expression, then gave up and decided to accept him at his word. “Ok… thanks. You’re sure you’re not mad?”

He chuckled. “No, Peanut. In fact, I’m the opposite. I didn’t think you fuckers would give a shit,” he said, smiling affectionately to take the sting out of his words. “And to be completely honest, it’s nice to know I was missed, at least a little.”

“Seriously?” George frowned at him. “It took us a whole day to finally accept that you were really gone, and even then we kept talking about how none of the shit that went down would’ve happened on your watch.” She sighed and set her mug down. “And when the fucking post-its from heaven came raining down on me, all I could think was that I needed a #6 with orange juice and a talk with you to figure this shit out. So I did the next best thing and robbed your apartment.” She chuckled. “And then, I saw this,” she gestured to the book, “on your table, and it just seemed… right. Like maybe I could do this with your help, you know?”

Serious again, he reached for her hand and wrapped his long fingers around hers. “I’m sorry kid. I didn’t have the choice to stay. And I missed our talks at Der Waffle Haus too. But you’ve been handling things, Peanut, and doing a damned good job of it too, just like I knew you would.”

She gave him a tremulous smile and squeezed his hand. “Did you really tell them that I should be the next head reaper?”

“I said I did, didn’t I?” he told her seriously.

“I know, I just… _Why?_ ”

He shrugged. “Because I knew you’d be good at it.” His thumb traced a gentle pattern over the back of her hand as he attempted to answer her question. “You’ve learned to take your job seriously, unlike Mason or Daisy. Roxy could’ve done it in a pinch, but she’s by the books, inflexible. Death doesn’t always follow a fucking rule book. Not to say that there aren’t rules, but you’re flexible enough o adapt to changing circumstances, like with that boyfriend of your sister’s. Roxy isn’t. She’s responsible and thorough and reliable, and if I’d gotten that promotion a few years back, chances are she’d be head reaper. But this you? Grown up George is the better candidate. You should know about that, you work at a fucking temp agency.”

“Oh, shut up, asshole,” she teased back. “And thanks, Rube.”

He squeezed her hand before releasing her fingers and leaning back in his chair with a grin. “So…” he said, a mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes, “how’d you like the post-its?”

George stared at him for a minute before it clicked and she grasped his meaning. “Let me guess,” she said dryly, “the fucking rain cloud of post-its was your idea?”

He just smiled smugly. George rolled her eyes at him. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Then her serious expression cracked and a smile crept across her face. “At the time, it was Not. Funny. At all. But in retrospect… ok, maybe a little funny. And damned appropriate.” Current and former team leader both chuckled and then returned their attention to their respective tasks.

She slipped the rubber bands off his book- no, her book now- and started copying in the day’s reaps and sorting out assignments for her team. George glanced across the table and bit the top of her pen nervously.

“What is it?” Rube asked, not looking up from the crossword he had started working on.

She slipped the pen from between her teeth, biting her lower lip instead. “It’s just… well, you said yesterday you were going to be doing reaps. Were you serious?”

He looked at her, face solemn. “Of course. You’ve been short a reaper, and while I’ll be doing some poking around on the side, I’m your fifth team member while I’m here.”

She nodded. “Alright then. If you’re sure? Like, it won’t be weird or anything having me assign you reaps?” she asked dubiously.

He just gave her his patented ‘Don’t be stupid, I’ve already told you once. Don’t make me repeat myself’ look and returned his attention to his crossword. George tried to hold in the giggles, but a strangled laugh escaped her before she could stop it. Rube crooked an eyebrow at her, patiently waiting for her to get herself under control and explain just what the fuck was so funny.

“I’m sorry!” she gasped, trying to hold off another bout of giggling. “It’s just… it occurred to me that I’ve even missed your grouchy faces!” she burst out laughing again.

Amusement and exasperation warred for dominance on his face, but amusement finally won and he cracked a small smile, regarding her affectionately. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I missed your fucked up sense of humor.”

George just grinned unconcernedly at him and wrote out one last post-it before standing and heading towards the kitchen, pulling out ingredients for breakfast. Rube reached past her to take the cartoon of eggs from her hand. “Go get ready for work and see about waking the rest of the merry band up. I’ll handle breakfast.”

She nodded agreeably and started up the steps, saving Mason, notoriously hard to rouse, for last. Deciding a quick shower would be a good idea before the others woke up and the line for the bathroom started, George made a beeline for the bathroom and quickly turned the shower tap to start the water flowing. She flicked the switch for the fan to dissipate the steam that had already started fogging up the mirror and shucked out of her pajamas before hopping into the shower and relaxing under the soothing spray.

She let herself have a few minutes to just enjoy the relaxing feeling of the water hitting her shoulders and then briskly washed and shampooed her hair and scrubbed the rest of her clean. After wrapping a towel around her wet hair and tugging on her blue plush robe, she paused in front of Roxy’s door on the way to her own bedroom. She rapped her knuckles against the door and, after receiving no reply, cautiously turned the knob. “Roxy? Are you awake?”

The dark haired woman was barely visible, buried beneath a sea of blankets with only the top half of her face and her wild curls poking out. But as George crept closer, one of the floor boards made the slightest squeak and suddenly George found herself staring down the barrel of a gun.

“Um, hi Roxy. Just me, you know, your friend George?” she said, standing stock still to allow Roxy time to wake all the way up.

“Shit, sorry George,” she said, lowering the gun to the nightstand. “Reflex,” she explained. “Getting killed by someone creeping up on you while you’re sleeping makes you a real light sleeper.”

“S’ok, no harm done. I just thought you might want at the shower before Daisy wakes up and commandeers it for the next hour and a half. Rube’s already started in on breakfast. There’s shampoo and soap and stuff in there, just help yourself.”

Roxy nodded. “Alright, I’ll be down soon. Give me ten minutes before you wake up the beauty queen, would ya?”

George promised to do so, and withdrew to her own room to get ready. She quickly dried her long blonde hair and tossed half of it back and up with a hairclip before pulling on a green dress shirt and a pair of dark gray slacks. On her way out the door, she grabbed a matching gray blazer and carried it with her downstairs. She tossed it over a chair near the front door and then walked down the hallway to Daisy’s room. With the resigned affection born of living with the self-proclaimed drama queen for the past six years, George unhesitatingly strode into the room and pulled the curtains open, sending light flooding towards the bed. Then she slipped Daisy’s sleep mask up, allowing the light to assault her roommate.

“Geoooooorgiaaaaaa!” Daisy wailed, trying to turn over to escape the light. George just let the mask snap back into place, used to this morning ritual they shared. “Up, Daisy. We’ve got things to do. Breakfast should be ready soon, so you might want to hurry up and get ready if you want any. You know how Mason is with food.”

A dramatic sigh worthy of an Oscar issued for the sleeper’s lips. “Oh fine, but don’t expect me to be gracious about it. A beautiful actress needs her beauty sleep, you know.”

George just rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever, Princess. You gonna get up or what?” She knew if she left before Daisy was vertical, she would just roll over and sleep for another hour or two. Or three.

Daisy slowly sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “There, I’m up? Are you happy now, you evil girl?”

Laughing, George tossed Daisy her hairbrush. “Oh I’m ecstatic. You know my day just doesn’t start until I see your smiling face.”

Daisy just huffed at her as she worked the knots out of her light hair. “I see someone’s in a good mood today,” she commented before gathering up the necessary items for her morning make up ritual. “And I must say, it is a pleasant change. You’ve been all… intense for the past forever. You know, that kind of prolonged attitude will give you wrinkles,” she winked, pointed at her roommate’s forehead.

“Uh-huh. Well I’m going to get breakfast. Try not to take forever…” George said as she made her escaped.

Rube was still dancing around the kitchen, reminding George of the time he had filled in at Der Waffle Haus after the cook died. She watched him silently for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of having the group back together again. Then she cleared her throat. “Anything I can help with?”

Glancing up as he expertly flipped pancakes, Rube pointed a spatula towards a stack of dishes and cutlery on the counter. “Why don’t you get the table set and pour some juice?”

Table set, she poured a cup of coffee, added some sugar, and carried it over to the living room. Carefully setting it on the table, she grabbed Mason’s foot and gave it a sharp tug. “Five more minutes, Mum,” he slurred, turning over underneath his blanket. Undeterred, she whipped the blanket off of him and shook his shoulder while holding the coffee under his nose with the other.

“Come on, Mason. You gotta get up. I even brought you coffee,” she insisted. When he showed no signs of waking, she grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked.

“Georgie?” he mumbled. “What’ve I told you about messing with me hair?” She wordlessly shoved the coffee into his hands as he straightened in the chair. His eyes brightened when he realized he had precious caffeine in his hands. “Oh, fantastic. Thanks, Georgie-girl. You always were my favorite.”

His alarm clock just snorted at that blatant lie. “Rube’s got breakfast almost…” she stared at his back as he eagerly sat down at the kitchen table, “done,” she finished, rolling her eyes. Only food could get Mason to move that quickly. Well, Daisy probably could if she ever bothered to, but George didn’t see that happening any time soon.

She walked back to the kitchen and sat in the chair next to him, smiling her thanks to Rube as he slid a portion of scrambled eggs onto her plate and set a plate piled high with pancakes in the center of the table. Rube’s hand shot out and smacked Mason’s away from the pancakes. “You get three. No more. Save some for everyone else.” Mason nodded agreeably and Rube released his wrist.

Roxy entered, closely followed by Daisy, who was surprisingly make-up free at the moment. Seeing George’s look, Daisy just flicked her eyes over the Mason. “I wanted to be sure I got some breakfast,” she said by way of explanation.

“I’m not judging,” George assured her. She quickly handed around the post-its for the day. “I guess having a full team of reapers really does make a difference. Everybody gets one today.” She looked at Rube as she handed him his. “Can I just say that this is totally weird? This handoff should be going the other way around.”

Mason grinned. “I don’t know, I’m kind of enjoying the fact that Rube has to listen to you. If I give you $10, will you purposely give him difficult reaps?”

George and Rube both chose to ignore him, but the corner of Roxy’s mouth turned up in a smile she tried to suppress. Daisy focused on Rube and smiled. “I’m just glad that we _finally_ have a full reaper contingency. Any more four reap days this month and I might actually go insane, not to mention the damage it was doing to my cuticles.” She frowned as she studied her nails. “I _have_ to get a manicure in today,” she mumbled to herself.

After checking the time and place on his post-it, Rube tucked it into his shirt pocket. “You really should have had a replacement in by now; I’m not sure what the holdup is with upper management. But at least you’re not understaffed for the moment.”

He looked around the table at the familiar faces and couldn’t help but feel glad to be back, despite the circumstances.

In some twisted, fucked up way, his charges had become family- a totally dysfunctional family, but family nonetheless. Roxy and George had both been part of his team since their deaths, and he’d helped both of them through the rough adjustment period from life to death to undeath. While Mason and Daisy had been transfers, they had both come into their own under his watch. But however he might have helped them, they had helped him too, in too many ways to count. And while it had pained him to leave, especially since he still hadn’t actually gotten his lights, just yet another job to do, he was proud of how they’d coped in his absence, especially since George had taken over the reins as team leader. His Peanut had grown up and become a responsible woman, even if she did still look eighteen. Maybe it was arrogant on his part, but he liked to think that he’d had something to do with that. Yes, the five of them were a family, and it was good to be home.

A few minutes passed in light conversation as Rube caught up on everything he’d missed since his promotion, until the shrill ring of Rube’s phone interrupted. Surprised, Rube dug it out of his pocket and flipped it open. “This is Rube,” he answered. “Harry! How are you? It’s been what, four years? Yeah, just got the job a few months back. Shit, really? Alright, I’ll drive down this afternoon. Can you meet me around 4 o’clock and fill me in? Great. Nah, I’ll drive back when we’re done, but thanks for the offer. Ok, see you later. And thanks for the tip. Goodbye.”

When he hung up, he found his former charges watching him expectantly. “What? Eat your food,” he ordered, promptly following his own advice and shoveling a bite of pancake in his mouth.

An awkward silence filled with sidelong glances followed until George couldn't contain her questions anymore. "Well? What'd they say?"

Rube finished chewing and swallowed before answering, carefully choosing his words. “Two more unexplained deaths in Portland this morning- the police are ruling it a construction accident.”


	8. An Overdue Confession

The news of more unscheduled deaths immediately stalled conversation around the kitchen table. Then theories started flying. After a minute of pointless arguing, Roxy pounded the table to get everyone’s attention.

“There’s something I don’t get,” Roxy mused, turning a thought over in her head. “We don’t know what’s causing people to die, but the fact is their souls are popped. That means there’s gotta be a reaper at work in this somehow.”

“So, what, there’s a rogue reaper going around popping souls and killing people?” Mason asked skeptically. “What would be the point?”

“Might not be a rogue reaper doing the killing,” Daisy pointed out. “Could just be someone doing what we’ve been doing. You know, checking to make sure the soul isn’t trapped.”

That sparked a fierce debate about whether or not someone could be doing that and if they were, why the souls hadn’t gone through their lights immediately, and why the hell nobody had mentioned reaping an unscheduled death. To Rube’s astonishment, George raised a hand for silence and the others immediately stopped talking and turned their attention to her. He’d have to get her to show her how she did that, he chuckled to himself.

She spoke slowly, still mulling over the thought she had just had. “Daisy’s right. It might not necessarily be a reaper.”

George looked meaningfully at Mason and Daisy and silently begged their forgiveness for what she was about to reveal. Across from her, Daisy’s eyes had grown wide and frightened, but she nodded almost imperceptibly, granting George her permission to finally confess the secret they had all been hiding from Rube for so long. Mason studiously avoided making eye contact with anyone and tried to make himself as small as possible in his seat. “More than half of the deaths have been accidents- first the explosion and now this construction accident. Could… is it possible… do you think the gravelings might possibly be involved somehow?” George asked Rube.

His eyes widened; evidently he hadn’t considered that angle. “I don’t know, Peanut. That’s a good question though. My instinct would be to say no, because they have their own orders to follow, and I’ve never seen them except at an appointment.”

“That’s just it, though,” Daisy broke in with a resigned air, almost glad they were finally confessing. “I had a reap once, oh four, five years back. Should have been pretty straight-forward, but instead of one death, there were two. And I only had the one post-it.” Anticipating Rube’s question, she hastened to assure him, “Don’t worry, they both crossed over properly, although I had to reap the second man post-mortem.”

Rube’s evaluating gaze passed from reaper to reaper. “I see I’m the only one here surprised by this. Someone want to explain to me why that is?” he asked in his super calm, super quiet voice that always spelled big trouble.

“Suppose this is where I come in, then, innit?” Mason sighed resignedly. “What Daisy isn’t telling you is that the graveling that orchestrated the extra death wasn’t exactly following orders.”

“And you know this how, exactly?” Rube inquired, still in that chilling voice that had everyone else at the table cringing away from him.

The secret that had eaten away at him for so long finally broke free in a rush. “Because it was my fucking fault that the damned graveling even existed, alright?” Mason practically shouted, lurching to his feet in preparation for escaping the showdown he was sure was coming.

But Daisy stopped him with a soft hand on his arm, gently tugging him back down into his seat. “No, it was my fault. Remember Ray, that slime ball that I was going with for awhile? Well, the graveling that did it- the one that killed the extra man? It sort of, well, used to be Ray.”

By this point Rube’s eyebrows were practically at his hairline. “Excuse me?”

Mason covered Daisy’s hand on his arm with his own, squeezing it in reassurance. “I sort of, well, killed him. I hadn’t planned on it or anything. The fucker was hurting Daisy.”

Daisy bravely raised her eyes to meet Rube’s cold gaze. “He turned into a graveling and started harassing us. I don’t think he ever would have stopped if George hadn’t…” she broke off, horrified by what she had almost revealed. Her intention had only been to mention that they knew of at least one instance when a graveling killed someone without an appointment.

George cowered in her seat as Rube turned his harsh glare on her. “If George hadn’t what? Care to finish that sentence, Peanut? And just to clarify, I don’t really give a fuck whether you care to or not, you’d best be finishing that sentence.”

George stared resolutely at her hands in her lap, cautiously watching Rube out of the corner of her eye. “I reaped him,” she whispered. “Turned him into nothing more than a puff of ash.” When Rube didn’t respond to that, she gathered the shards of her brash bravado and raised her head to face him.

“Let me see if I’ve got all this straight. Fuck-up here killed a man without an appointment, turning him into a graveling and then Georgia,” George flinched at his use of her full name, something he only did when he was really, really, really pissed off, “reaped the damn thing and nobody thought to inform me of any of this?” Rube was feeling somewhere between shock and outrage; he was shocked that any of it had happened and that they had somehow managed to keep it all a secret from him, and outraged that they had somehow managed to keep it all a secret from him. None of them were terribly good at secrecy. They all had a tendency to break down fairly quickly and confess their fuck ups.

He turned a baleful gaze on Roxy. “I’d have thought you at least would have told me.”

Roxy shook her head in stunned disbelief. “Hey, this is news to me too. I knew Ray was dead, but I never heard about this graveling shit. Fuck, George. You reaped a graveling?”

“It was going after Mason. I didn’t even think, I just reacted,” George answered in a small voice that she fought to keep from wavering. Mason rubbed her back reassuringly, while on her other side, Rube continued to stare at her. He finally seemed to have reached some sort of conclusion and his voice turned from hard and cold as ice to gentle and reassuring.

He laid his hand over hers where it lay on her lap, clenching a napkin so tightly that her knuckles were white. “I’m not mad, George, I’m just hurt that you all kept this from me. I thought over the last couple years we’d stopped having secrets from each other. And I’m confused, because you’re telling me you reaped a graveling, and that shouldn’t be possible. You shouldn’t have even been able to see it to do that.”

“Um, about that…” George hesitated. “I know you always say to look for them out of the corner of your eye, but I’ve never had to do that. I’ve always seen them, clear as day, even back when I was still alive. She held a hand up in Rube’s direction, stopping his objection before he could make it. “I know, I know, it isn’t possible for the living to see them. But I’m telling you, I did. Once when I was a kid, I was pushed into a pool. I didn’t know how to swim, so I was just floating there, slowly sinking, and two gravelings popped out of the pool vent. One started towards me but the other one dragged it back and said something to it. Then they both crawled back in and disappeared. No deaths. They weren’t there for an appointment. I don’t know what the hell they were doing, but they weren’t orchestrating an accident.”

Rube stared at her in what almost looked like shock, an expression she found mirrored on the faces of everyone else. “You’re certain?” Rube asked urgently. When she nodded, his face turned grim. “I’ll have to make a phone call about this and you and me need to have a talk once I do.”

An awkward silence broken only by Mason’s fork scraping across his plate as he pushed his food around descended upon the group.

Finally, Rube pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. “Alright, well this Ray situation aside, I’ve never heard of any issues with the gravelings before, and upper management keeps them on a pretty tight leash. We won’t eliminate them from the suspect pool entirely, but I don’t think they’re our culprits. And we need to sort this thing out before more people die and their souls end up missing. I want everyone to keep an eye out for more suspicious activity here. I’m going to drive down to Portland to check things out there once I’ve finished with my appointment this morning. I’ll be back this evening. Roxy, I’ll need you to keep me filled in on what the police find out about the three murder victims.”

“Of course. But do you really think the police will find anything? Somehow I get the feeling there’s something less alive and more sinister at work than the usual police suspects.”

“You and me both, but I’ll take anything that might help us track this down and figure…” He was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing again. Rube practically vaulted out of his chair when he saw who was calling. “Gotta take this, back in a few,” he shouted behind him as he ran out to the front porch for some privacy.


	9. Investigations, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no see. Sorry about that! Ran off to England for a couple of months and didn't keep up with my writing! But back now and hoping to knock the rest of this story out with reasonably timed updates =)

Surprised, the others looked at each other, grabbed their juice glasses, quickly drained them, and stealthily crept up to the front door and placed the rims of their glasses to the door before pressing their ears to the bottom, feeling perfectly justified in eavesdropping on their old boss under the circumstances.

Through their improvised listening devices, they could just make out what Rube was saying as he paced agitatedly across the front porch. “Yeah? What? You’re sure? Interesting. So where were they for three days? Yeah, I know. Sorry. So I guess we see if the pattern holds for the others. Two more were found in Portland this morning. I’m going to head down and check it out this afternoon. OK, thanks. Keep me informed.”

His eavesdroppers quickly shifted back to the table as they heard him sigh and approach the door again. When he got back to the table, he found them all, minus Roxy of course, who was just too collected to betray what she knew, nervously pretending to be totally normal and loudly conversing about anything but what they’d overheard.

This time he didn’t even try to keep the four staring at him in wide-eyed suspense waiting. “Well, it seems that the three souls from that lab explosion at the university finally found their lights and crossed over. But still no sign of the other victims of whatever this is. And still no word on who or what might be killing them.”

“There’s no way to ask them if they know who reaped them?” Roxy asked, already knowing the answer would be no.

“Nope, they don’t know themselves. Apparently whoever did reap them didn’t bother to take them to their lights, just left them there to figure it out on their own. That’s why they were missing for so long. If the same thing happened to the others, there’s no telling how long it will be before they move on,” Rube sighed in frustration, his earlier anger at his team forgotten in the face of the problems at hand.

Roxy drummed her fingers against the table. “Well, now, that’s not entirely true. If they’re still stuck here, we could go looking for them. Chances are they didn’t wander too far from where they were killed. You can look for those victims in Portland while you’re down there, and the rest of us can try to track down the local ones.”

“That’s a great idea, Roxy. I think that should be our plan of attack for the day. Mason, why don’t you and Daisy take a look around the university for the most recent death there and I’ll tag along with Roxy this morning before my afternoon shift at Happy Time and we’ll look for the first two murders victims. OK? Let’s meet up at Der Waffle Haus tonight and compare notes. Rube, you said you were meeting someone in Portland around 4, right? So shall we say Der Waffle Haus at 8?”

“Sounds good, Peanut,” he said, impressed with her delegations. “Did you ask Daisy about the rest of us staying here?”

“Oh! I’d forgotten. Do you mind if the others crash with us while we’re tracking down these deaths? Rube thought it would make things easier, plus, it might be safer since whoever left me that note clearly knows where I live.”

Daisy immediately agreed. “That’s a wonderful idea. Mason and I can even pick up an inflatable mattress while we’re out and that way everyone can at least have a bed. Why don’t you all bring some clothes and things to Der Waffle Haus later and we can all come home together?”

“That reminds me,” said Rube as he began gathering their breakfast dishes to take to the sink, “one of the delivery shades will be dropping off some of my things this evening. I didn’t have a chance to pack much before I get shipped from Vancouver to make that regional meeting.”

Mason looked at him like he was crazy and mouthed, “Delivery shades?” to Roxy, who just shrugged back.

George, however, nodded in understanding. “I’ll keep an eye out for them if they get here before you get back.”

“Appreciate it, Peanut. And now, I’ve got an appointment to get to. Anyone want to give me a lift to my truck? I left it in the lot at that office building near Der Waffle Haus.”

“Roxy’s patrol car is still at Der Waffle Haus too. Why don’t we all head over there and I can go with Roxy so Daisy, you and Mason can take my car out to the university.” She turned to Mason, “You’ll note that I said that Daisy could take the car. You don’t drive my baby. You don’t get drunk or high in my baby, and you sure as hell don’t get scratches on it, crash it, set it on fire, throw up in it or do any of the other stupid shit that you’ve managed to do to your cars. We have an understanding?”

“Georgie,” he protested, “I don’t know why you’re acting like I’m the grim reaper of automobiles. I crashed _one_ time, _and_ I was high, _and_ that was like fifteen years ago!”

She snorted. “That’s bullshit and you know it, Mason. Just let Daisy drive and try to behave? I really like my car.” Mason just grumbled, which George took as his reluctant agreement.

“We’d better get a move on then,” she said, shepherding her flock out to the car.

At Der Waffle Haus, Rube got out and started walking to his car, while Roxy and George transferred to Roxy’s patrol car. George tossed her keys to Daisy after making her swear to be careful with the Mustang and not to let Mason drive it. That prompted more muttered grumblings from the Brit as he stewed in the passenger seat, but George just squeezed his shoulder and left with Roxy.

The two women piled into the police car, with Roxy unbending enough to allow George to sit up front instead of in the back. She radioed in to Dispatch to let them know she was patrolling and available if needed and then started driving towards the address where the first two murder victims were found.

George leaned back in her seat and sighed. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“Hmm?” Roxy muttered distractedly as she made a left-hand turn. “What what means?”

“If the souls are still out there wandering around, our graveling theory’s shot and we’re back to square fucking one.”

The policewoman nodded grimly. “Yeah, I’d thought of that. It just doesn’t make any sense…”

“Yeah, well, when has any of this ever made sense? We just do what we gotta do.”

“Kid,” Roxy snorted, “you’re turning into Rube more and more every fucking day.”

When she had first died, George probably would have greeted that statement with an outraged shriek and a ten minute diatribe denouncing the accusation, but having grown up a bit and experienced some of the pressures and responsibilities of being the head reaper, George just shrugged. “It’s the job, Roxy. Kinda makes me wonder what Rube was like before he was head reaper. Bet you anything he wasn’t as resigned and serious before either.”

Roxy regarded her with sympathy and understanding. “It’s really that bad, then?” she asked quietly, not expecting an answer. “Guess I should be glad they picked you and not me.”

George just shrugged. “I dunno what to think anymore. Somebody has to do it. If you’d gotten picked, you’d have gotten the job done.”

The rest of the ride was passed in companionable silence, each woman engrossed in her own thoughts. Roxy pulled up in front of an older, slightly rundown apartment building and parallel parked along the curb.

“So this is it,” George remarked, staring out the window of the patrol car at the older, slightly rundown apartment building in front of them. Roxy ignored her in favor of climbing out of the car to get this shit over with.

They got out of the car and made their way inside, Roxy pulling off her hat as they entered. After a short elevator ride up to the fourth floor, the elevator doors slide open to reveal a door directly across from them covered in yellow crime scene tape. Roxy strode over to the door, pulling out a ring of keys as she did so. She deftly unlocked the door and nonchalantly ducked under the tape and into the small apartment. Before allowing George to follow her in, Roxy did a quick check to see if anyone from the coroner’s office or the police department was around. Satisfied that they had the place to themselves, she beckoned George into the room.

As she snuck under the police tape, George’s eyes caught on a framed photo sitting on a small bookcase packed full of hard cover books. A dark haired older man beamed at the camera, with his arm wrapped around the shoulders of a younger version of himself wearing a hunter green SU sweatshirt with the mountains in the distance. She picked up the picture to study it while Roxy made a sweep of the apartment. “No sign of them here. We should check the rest of the building, they shouldn’t have gotten very far.”

George gestured to the picture she still held. “Is this them?”

Roxy came over and studied it. “Yeah, that’s them. Father and son- Jose Rodriguez, 52, and his son Diego, 21. The dad worked as a cook in a South American bistro, the son was a freshman at Seattle University, pre-med. They immigrated here from Peru ten years ago, only to end up strangled in their own apartment. Such a shame.”

“Yeah,” George agreed quietly as she set the picture down. “We should check the area. Any family nearby? That’s where I kept returning to when I first died.”

“Nah, all still back in Peru, although the wife died here a while back. We can ride out to the cemetery and take a look there.”

They went back out to the elevator, Roxy carefully locking the door behind them.

“That’s probably our best bet. Was the dad’s restaurant nearby? They might’ve gone there, just for a familiar place,” George suggested.

“Yeah, couple blocks away. Worth a shot. Why don’t we check there real quick and then head out to the cemetery?” Roxy suggested.

“That’s as good a plan as any. I know they’ve been dead for almost two days at this point, but didn’t think they’d have wandered off very far, especially without a reaper around to guide them.”

“It is what it is, kid,” Roxy responded pragmatically as she slide into the patrol car and buckled her seat belt.

George grinned at her as she fastened her own seatbelt. “Now who’s turning into Rube?”

“Real funny,” Roxy replied dryly and started the car.

When they got to the restaurant where Jose had worked, neither was particularly surprised that there was no trace of their missing souls. Roxy put in a call to the station to find out where the wife was buried and to see if there were any new leads. They started off once more, hoping they would luck out at the cemetery.

“The police find anything?” George asked.

Roxy glanced at her before turning her attention back to the road. “This is still an ongoing investigation, so don’t go repeating what I tell you to anyone outside our little group. And maybe don’t tell Mason either.”

Rolling her eyes, George protested, “He’s not _that_ bad. He can keep a secret you know.”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” Roxy said quietly.

George immediately caught her mistake. “Look, Rox, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you.”

“No,” Roxy interrupted, “it’s my own fault. I told Daisy I didn’t want to know when it happened. I just didn’t realize what I wasn’t finding out about.” They sat in silence for a minute, then Roxy roused herself to pass on what she’d learned. “Anyway, still no real leads. They were strangled by one of the ties from their own curtains and the fucker wore gloves, so we’ve got no prints. Other than that, still nothing. Nobody can think of any enemies they might have had, and it doesn’t seem like anything was stolen from the apartment.” She sighed.

“So there’s no leads, no witnesses, and no suspects. Maybe we’ll get lucky at the cemetery. If we can find the souls, they might be able to tell us who killed them,” George offered tentatively, afraid to offer too much optimism.

“Maybe,” Roxy said dubiously.

They reached the cemetery and split up to look for the grave of Marina Rodriguez and her husband and son. George finally found it half-hidden in the shade of an old oak tree, but there was no sign of their missing souls. She hollered for Roxy, who immediately made her way over to her.

“Well shit,” she said, looking down at the name carved on the granite stone. “So much for that idea.”

“Yeah,” George agreed, glancing at her watch. “Fuck, I gotta get to work. Can you give me a lift to Happy Time?”

Roxy nodded and gestured for George to follow her as they set off back down the hill towards the car. Neither of them noticed the two gravelings perched like frozen statues in the branches of the oak tree standing guard over Marina’s burial place that watched them leave the cemetery.


End file.
